Queen of the HIVE
by redvegetables
Summary: The second year Alphas are undertaking one of their most difficult challenges yet: class elections. Otto and Laura, Wing and Shelby, Franz and Nigel, and nine other partnerships are competing to be the ultimate victors. With only one week to get the majority of the school to choose sides, the campaigns soon become dirty. But only one can win.
1. The Announcement

**This takes place between books 1 and 2.**

Otto squinted at the circuit diagram he had drawn. It seemed all right, but it was hard to tell. He stared hard at a lone squiggle, trying to figure out what he had meant by it. Maybe his pencil had broken, he mused, and the zigzag had been purely accidental. That was the only logical explanation. Satisfied, Otto continued sketching. He was rudely interrupted by an elbow in his ribs. His exclamation of annoyance was luckily masked by the ruckus signifying the end of the class. Otto looked up angrily to see who had just elbowed him. Laura's flushed face was glaring at him. "What did you do that for?" he complained.

"You weren't listening at all."

"So?"

"The Contessa said something important," Laura persisted.

"That'd be a first," said Otto, yawning. Shelby, attracted by the noise, put in her two cents.

"Otto's right," she said. "See?" She held up a notebook full of doodles. As Otto looked closer, he realized that it was an animation of a beaver attacking the Contessa's elaborate hairstyle. Laura sniffed disapprovingly.

"So no one heard what the Contessa said?" she asked.

"No," said Otto. "And frankly, I don't really care."

"Aren't any of you interested?" Laura tried again. "Wing?"

"Not really," said Shelby. "Frankly, I can't really see myself manipulating anyone in the future. We're Alphas, remember?"

"What did the Contessa say?" asked Wing, who had decided that humoring Laura was probably a safe strategy. Visions of malfunctioning technology flashed before his eyes.

"Not cool, Ninja Boy. Not cool at all," said Shelby.

"Not cool?" Wing raised his eyebrows.

"My dear culturally blind ninja," Shelby said, "do I really have to explain the meaning of 'not cool' to you?"

"Actually," said Wing with dignity "I do know what you mean by the Americanism 'not cool'. I just do not think that it is a proper term."

"How do you know that we aren't in America right now?" asked Shelby.

"How many tropical islands housing extinct volcanoes in America do you know of?" asked Otto.

"I don't know any," retorted Shelby. "That's the point. H.I.V.E.'s location is a _secret_."

"I still don't think it's in America," said Otto.

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Otto? Shelby?" interjected Wing. "I think that Villainy Studies is going to start in about thirty seconds." Shelby cursed.

"Another Americanism?" asked Otto innocently. In response, Shelby very eloquently stuck her tongue out at him.

"Last one into the classroom is a loser!" she called out behind her as she turned to run.

"And gets in serious trouble with the guards," muttered Otto. "And Nero... and Raven... and everyone else in the universe..." He too started to run. As he increased his pace to a sprint, Wing began jogging to keep up with him.

"Ten seconds, I think," Wing said impassively. The featureless hallway stretched out before them. It seemed like miles to the Villainy Studies classroom. Otto ran on, hoping against hope that the bell wouldn't sound. Just as he began to seriously consider the possibility that they really weren't late at all, the bell began to ring. Desperately, Otto put on a burst of speed, skidding into the class just as the bell was on its final ring. Somehow, Wing, who had been jogging sedately the whole way, had managed to slip in before he did,

"Late, Mr. Malpense," said Nero. "Sit down." Otto slid into his seat next to Laura, extremely thankful that his chair was in the second to last row. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that she was as stiff and upright as a statue. Idly, he wondered why.

"Loser," Shelby, who sat behind him, whispered. Otto ignored her.

"As I'm sure you already heard the Contessa say," Nero began pointedly, "for the first time ever, there will be an election at H.I.V.E." The excited buzzing proved that no one but Laura had actually been listening. Nero cleared his throat. The class was silent. Instantly. "Because this is the first time that anything like this has been tried, we are limiting all candidates to the Alpha stream alone. Since the Alphas specialize in leadership, this should be very interesting. The winner get nothing." The whole class practically exploded. "Silence!" Nero yelled. "Silence!" However, not even the implicit threat that Raven would come and murder them all seemed to quiet the class. Nero decided to make the threat explicit.

He flipped open his blackbox. "H.I.V. ?"

"What can I do for you today?" asked H.I.V. 's synthetic voice.

"Get me Raven," instructed Nero. Those in the front few rows that heard were instantly silent. The rest of the class, however, kept on talking. Nero surreptitiously adjusted the noise-receiving level of his blackbox; he didn't want to seem to be screaming at Raven when he called her. "Raven," he yelled. "Could you come here for a moment?" This time, it was only the back of the class that had not heard him. Oh well, thought Nero wryly. They were the ones closest to the door anyway. If Raven was in the mood, they would be the first to get injured. Precisely 29 seconds later, the door seemed to open and close of its own accord. Driven by some primal instinct, the whole class gulped. Even the back rows. Especially the back rows.

Even and especially Otto Malpense, who was still busily trying to figure out whether the glory of winning was worth the inconvenience. Ultimate bragging rights were one thing, but a long, hard campaign where he actually had to - horrors - work for nothing were quite another. Working on a device that could, say, unseat the prime minister was one thing. Working to get the approval of a group of junior supervillains was quite another. When Otto was going to rule, he was going to rule by cachet alone. And possibly fear. Fear was good too.

"I am giving you this time," Nero continued, "to partner up and arrange for any future meetings with your partner. Anyone who has difficulty finding a partner should come up here to be assigned one." He gave them a glare to show that it was _not_ perfectly all right if they couldn't find a partner and that asking him for one was a Bad Idea. "Any questions?" Franz, in a moment of bravery, raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Argentblum?"

"Why are we needing partners?" asked Franz. Nero pretended to be confused.

"I thought that the Contessa had already explained that," he said, knowing perfectly well that almost all of the Alphas thought that Political Manipulation was a complete waste of their time. "Can anyone here enlighten Mr. Argentblum please?" The whole class was suddenly still. Then, Laura's hand began slowly creeping up.

"Yes, Miss Brand?" Nero asked.

"We're supposed to have a president and a vice-president," Laura said so quietly that Otto had to strain to hear her.

"Could you repeat that, Miss Brand?" Nero asked. "I don't think that Mr. Argentblum heard."

"We're supposed to have a president and a vice-president," Laura said slightly more audibly. Nero, sensing that it would be a while before anyone in the front could actually hear what Miss Brand was saying, decided to interject.

"Thank you. As Miss Brand just said, in each group, there is to be one member running for president and one for vice president. Any more questions?" A boy in the third row raised his hand.

"When will the elections be, sir?"

"A week from today," Nero replied. "Any more questions?" The class was silent. "Very well. I'll leave you to it." Instantly, there was pandemonium. Most of the class had already, using glances and gestures, picked their partners. However, there were, of course, some people who had committed themselves to joining five people and some who had misinterpreted gestures and had nobody. A few scuffles broke out, but Nero managed to step in and break them up. Otto, Wing, Shelby, and Laura were all staring at each other.

"So..." said Otto. There was an awkward silence. Shelby decided to take charge.

"OK. There are four people who have to be split into two partnerships. So, Otto, who do you want to be your partner?"

"Um... Well..."

"Never mind," said Shelby briskly. "I'll get back to you later. Laura?" Laura flushed and seemed incapable of making any sound. "Wing?" Shelby asked hopefully.

"I would be happy to be partnered with any one of you," Wing said calmly. Shelby sighed.

"I'm so glad that we're all so decisive. The mark of a great leader, you know."

"Sarcasm alert!" yelled Otto. Laura sniffed again. Franz and Nigel walked up to them.

"So, have you been choosing partners?" asked Nigel.

"Yeah," said Shelby.

"What does it look like we're doing?" asked Otto irritably.

"We are already being partners," Franz said proudly, pointing to Nigel. They walked away.

"We need to think logically about this," said Otto.

"Aye-aye," said Shelby happily. "Whatever you say, captain."

"So," began Otto, "Laura and I are good with computers, and you and Wing are good at... uh... physical things. So... so... do we want to put two people who are good at the same thing together, or do we want to split talents?"

"It could be useful to have two people who are good at the same thing together," Laura suggested. "Less issues."

"No, Brand," Shelby argued. "Each group should have a mix to be good at the most things possible."

"What do you think, Wing?" asked Otto.

"I think that I will stay out of this," said Wing. "As I have said before, I am fine with whatever happens."

"I think that we should consider the social aspects, though," Shelby interjected.

"Aye," said Laura gravely. "As the Contessa often says, politics is a brutal business."

"You're right," said Otto. "I think that it should be me and Wing who are partners. And you two girls." Neither Laura nor Shelby seemed very happy about the prospect.

"No," said Shelby. "Are you nuts? You two definitely need female guidance. Not that I care or anything," she added quickly.

"I am plenty old enough to be without 'female guidance'!" said Otto indignantly.

"Blind enough, you mean," said Shelby.

"Actually," said Laura, "I think that it would be wise to appeal to as many voters as possible. I think that one male and one female per team would be a good idea."

"So than why didn't you like the idea of splitting talents?" asked Shelby indignantly. "Wouldn't that 'appeal to as many voters as possible'?" Laura shrugged.

"Well, anyway," Otto said, "judging by the response, I guess that that's one combination down. Which of you ladies would like to be with me?" Shelby coughed loudly. Otto glared at her. Her face face, however, was a perfect mask of innocence.

"To avoid deaths," said Laura, "I think that Shelby and Otto should be separate."

"I doubt that either would resort to killing," said Wing. "It seems a rather extreme reaction to an insult."

"There are some insults worth killing for," said Laura wisely.

"Fine," said Shelby to Wing. "Let's go."

"So... ah..." Otto began, "so... I guess we're partners."

"You guess?" asked Laura sarcastically."Tell me, do you want a malfunctioning alarm clock?"

"No," said Otto. "Not particularly."

"So do you want to meet in our room at seven?" Laura asked.

"By 'our room', I suppose you mean the one that you and Shelby share?"

"Yes," said Laura. Luckily, they were spared trying to make any more casual conversation by the bell.

"See you then," Otto called as he grabbed his books and began jogging to Tactical Education. He really didn't want to be late again; detention with Colonel Francisco was something to be avoided at all costs.

**Please review, especially with criticism.**


	2. Polls and Cameras

Laura was flicking through a Political Manipulation textbook when she heard a loud knocking on the door. "Why can't you just-" she muttered irritably as she got up to go see who it was. She opened the door. Otto was standing there. For a second, she was confused.

"Hi," said Otto.

"Why are you- oh never mind," Laura gabbled as her mouth tried to catch up with her brain. "Hi."

"Can I come in?" Otto asked. Before waiting for her response, he stepped in. "Where's Shelby?" he asked.

"Gone on top secret business," she said.

"Meaning?" Otto asked. Laura sighed.

"Where's Wing?"

"Oh," said Otto. "I get it. Campaigning." There was an awkward pause. Laura opened her mouth and then closed it. After a while, Otto broke the silence.

"So what did the Contessa say?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing much," Laura replied breezily.

"So what did she say?" Otto persisted.

"Nothing much, really. I mean, Nero pretty much covered it. She did tell us to look at our Blackboxes, though." Otto immediately opened his and began reading about the election. In ten seconds, he was finished.

"What did it say?" inquired Laura.

"Not much that we didn't already know," said Otto. Laura made an "I told you so" face. "All I learned was that we have to submit our final partner choices to Dr. Nero tonight and that we have to use at least one of the techniques taught by the Contessa. But that shouldn't be a problem, right?" Laura nodded enthusiastically.

"Don't worry. A lot of what the Contessa says is very general, so we ought to be able to fit it in somehow. If worst comes to worst, we can say that we attempted to 'win at all costs'. That should just about do it." Otto looked relieved.

"Good," he said. "Anyway, I thought that we might start thinking about our campaign strategy."

"That's a good idea," said Laura. "Hopefully, we can get it going by tomorrow morning."

"Good," said Otto. "Well, obviously, the easiest thing would be to tamper with the election results. The problem is that HIVEmind would see through that in an instant. So the next best idea would be to force people to vote for us. That won't work either; it said that Raven will oversee the whole voting process, so that's a terrible idea."

"Unless we want to be dismembered," said Laura. "What else did you learn from your Blackbox?"

"Didn't I tell you already?" asked Otto, puzzled. Laura sighed deeply.

"So you did. However, you neglected to mention that crucial fact about Raven. What else did you forget?"

"I did not forget anything!" said Otto indignantly. "I omitted it because I felt that it wasn't necessary." Laura tapped her foot impatiently.

"Get on with it, albino," she said. Otto rolled his eyes.

"I pretty much summarized everything. However, I did forget to mention that we'll also have to tell Nero who's the candidate and who's the running mate."

"How are we going to tell him?" asked Laura. Otto shrugged.

"He's enabled the email feature on all of our Blackboxes."

"Shelby must be overjoyed." Otto shook his head.

"Not really," he said. "He only enabled it for emails from our Blackboxes to his."

"Ah. Anyway, we can worry about it later." Otto looked very wise.

"So... As I was saying, I think that the election itself has to be an honest one. However, we can be as dirty as we want for the next six days." Otto paused. "First, I think that we should see where we stand with this, though. I suggest a poll."

"Are you really going to be that clean?" Laura wondered. "To be honest, I would have expected more from you." Otto jumped up in protest. "Not that I'm unhappy or anything," she added hastily. Otto looked scandalized.

"I'm shocked," he said. "Shocked! A junior supervillain wanting to play it straight in a class election?"

"I didn't say that _I_ wanted to play it straight," she said. "I was just happy that you hadn't lost all sense of morality." Otto opened his mouth. "I mean, I wasn't unhappy with the fact that you weren't a psychopath already," she amended. "Happy?" Otto looked somewhat appeased.

"I guess," he said. "Shall we start writing the poll?"

"I'll get a pencil," said Laura hastily. She had noticed Otto getting up and was hoping to avert any possible disasters by keeping him as far away as possible from her ultra-neat desk. She walked over to it, grabbed a pencil case, and took the pencil that she had found back to Otto. The albino was smirking.

"Pink, Brand? Really?" Laura's face turned the same color as her hair.

"It was a birthday present from Shelby," she said. "But let's get back to the poll, shall we?"

"Fine," said Otto. "So what I propose is to ask a few questions about who they are and then ask them about who they're going to vote for."

"Shouldn't we skip asking about who they are?" asked Laura.

"Why?"

"I don't know," said Laura. "Invasion of privacy?" Otto snorted.

"Again. A junior supervillain worried about privacy?" Laura sighed.

"Fine. Forget I ever asked. So what do you want to ask?"

"Their stream."

"And their year," said Laura. Otto inclined his head.

"That might be useful," he agreed. "Maybe. Also, I think we should ask about ethnicity."

"No," Laura objected. "That could get private or personal or something. Or maybe some people don't have one. Like what if they have two?" Otto rolled his eyes.

"Surely this hypothetical person of yours has an opinion about where they come from. They were born somewhere, right?

"But say that they were born in, say, somewhere but moved to somewhere else when they were one and lived there for the rest of their life? Until HIVE, of course." Otto rolled his eyes.

"They can figure it out, I'm sure," said Otto. "Let's just do it."

"Why?" asked Laura.

"You know what?" asked Otto. "Forget it. Just forget it. But I do think that we should ask whether they're male or female."

"Why?" asked Laura again. Otto sighed.

"To figure out who we want to target. If we've already won over most of the female population with my knightly charm-"

"Not likely," said Laura. "Which knightly charm are you talking about anyway?"

"-we can move on to make ads targeted at the male population," Otto finished.

"But what if they're trans-" Otto looked surprised.

"Well, they can say that, can't they?" he asked. Laura shook her head firmly.

"Otto," she said, "we are not asking any questions about gender. That is final." Otto shrugged. Like any good junior supervillain, he knew when a fight was lost.

"Fine, then," he said. "Then the last question can be about who they're voting for."

"So one of those multiple choice circle-your-answer things?" asked Laura.

"Why not?" asked Otto. "So all we have to do now is list all of the groups. Shall we put our names first?"

"But they wouldn't be first alphabetically, would they?" she asked. Otto waved his hand grandly.

"It'll be the first they read, which means that they might choose it just because they're to lazy to read any more. Then, they will have remembered supporting us and will vote for us. Simple!" Laura looked extremely dubious.

"Well... maybe. Fine. So we'll be first and then Wing and Shelby and then Franz and Nigel and then... who else?" Otto bit his lip thoughtfully.

"Fredrick and James are running together, I think," he said. "I'm pretty sure that I heard that Rachel and Eleanor were too." Laura made an indistinct noise of disgust.

"So then Mary and Susan would be together," she said. "And Kate was talking about how Nathan had the best campaign plan ever, so it can be assumed that they were together."

"That's half of them," said Otto. "And I can't think of any more. You?" Laura shook her head.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"It's still fine," said Otto. "The way I see it, Shelby and Wing and Nigel and Franz are our real opponents. The rest just aren't..."

"I see what you mean," said Laura. "I mean, Rachel and Eleanor will probably make the most gorgeous posters, but..."

"So," said Otto conclusively, "I say that we make four choices, Otto and Laura, Wing and Shelby, Franz and Nigel, and 'Other'."

"Fine," said Laura. "And then write something like 'Comments' at the bottom." Otto finished the draft and eyed it critically. Laura looked over his shoulder. "It's fine," she said. "Now we just need to distribute it."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Otto said breezily. There was silence.

"Otto?" Laura asked hesitantly. There was something that had been nagging at her ever since Otto had talked about having a poll.

"Yes?" he said.

"What if people lie?" Laura asked.

"Lie?"

"I mean," said Laura, continuing boldly, "as you said, we're here because we're evil and villainous and iniquitous and nefarious and diabolical and dastardly and..."

"I get the picture," said Otto.

"So what if people decide to lie to mess up our poll?" Otto grinned.

"Of course they will!" he said. "That's the other thing I need to talk to Professor Pike about. He might have a stockpile of cameras, you know. And while we're there, we can ask if he has a photocopier for out survey." Otto looked very proud of himself.

"Actually," said Laura, "I know where we could find about 900 of them." Otto gaped at her. She continued. "Each person in the Technical stream made five for an end-of-semester assessment of Professor Pike's."

"How do you know?" asked Otto in amazement.

"I have acquaintances in the Technical stream, you know," she said.

"Well," said Otto, "that'll be our next big project, then, but let's talk to Professor Pike about the photocopier first." He grabbed the poll and marched towards the door, Laura trailing in his wake. Ten minutes later, they found Professor Pike in the Practical Technology classroom. He was staring at a computer screen, utterly absorbed.

"Professor?" Laura whispered. "Professor Pike?" Pike didn't react. Otto walked over to his computer and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Professor Pike?" he said loudly. Professor Pike turned around irritably.

"What do you want? I already-" He stopped abruptly when he saw Otto. "Why are you here, Mr. Malpense?" he asked.

"I wanted to borrow your photocopier," Otto said.

"My photocopier?" asked Pike. "Why do you want my photocopier?" Otto winked.

"Poll distribution," he said. Professor Pike nodded knowingly.

"So this is one of those covert campaigning things?"

"Exactly," said Otto. "Laura and I figured-"

"So Miss Brand is in on this too!" the professor exclaimed.

"Yes," said Otto. "She's right-" he looked up. No Laura was in sight. "She was right there," he finished lamely.

"It's strange..." mused the professor. "I would not have expected Miss Brand to be part of this clandestine campaigning. Ah well... It's the Alpha way, I guess. Although, Mr. Malpense, between me and you, I think that Miss Brand would have been much happier in the Technical stream. Good night." He turned back to his computer and began typing furiously. Otto left silently. He found Laura waiting outside of the door for him.

"Let's go," she said. Otto followed her, opening his Blackbox.

"Hello, Mr. Malpense," said HIVEmind. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," said Otto. "Please look at your security tapes for the Practical Technology classroom in the last five minutes." HIVEmind was silent for a moment.

"I assume that you are requesting access to room 213," HIVEmind said emotionlessly.

"Yes," said Otto.

"Permission granted," said HIVEmind. Otto closed his Blackbox. Suddenly, Laura grabbed his arm.

"What was that for?" he complained.

"We're there," said Laura. The door to room 213 opened soundlessly. Otto, who had been expecting racks of sleepers, or grenades, or... anything dangerous was incredibly disappointed. Inside room 213 was a photocopier, a table that looked like it had been around during the Spanish Inquisition, a few chairs, a blackboard, and several large boxes. Hoping that they might be exciting, Otto took one off of its shelf and stuck his head inside. Moments later, he came up gagging and coughing. His head was coated in a thick layer of dust.

"Disgusting," he wheezed. "Absolutely disgusting."

"What did you do this time, Malpense?" asked Laura, her back to him. Strangely, although she had hacked into pretty much every secure site in the world, Laura Brand had never operated a photocopier. She found the task strangely difficult. First of all, she couldn't figure out where to put the paper. She had entered the number of copies that she wanted, but she had no idea how to make it start. Otto looked over at her.

"Disturbed a pile of Politics and Economics textbooks that have been in this box since the 1960's, by the looks of them," Otto called to her. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to work this stupid photocopier," said Laura. Otto walked over to her.

"Here, let me-" Laura looked at him in horror. From a distance, she hadn't realized that he was coated in dust. And he was quite close to her. She sneezed.

"What's wrong?" asked Otto.

"Your head is covered in dust!" said Laura. "That's a bit... Well, could you just keep your distance until you get it all washed off?" Otto nodded sheepishly and backed away.

"I'll give you instructions from back here," Otto said.

"You know how to use this devilish machine?" asked Laura, a quaver in her voice.

"Yes," said Otto gallantly. "There was one at the orphanage, and-"

"Anyway," said Laura hurriedly, feeling that this might be the beginning of a long story, "what do you do?"

"First," said Otto importantly, "you have to lift the top off. See that cleft?" Laura nodded. "Stick your fingers in there and push up," Otto instructed. Laura began forcing it up. To her astonishment, the top flew up. "Now," said Otto, "Position the poll in the corner inside the lines like... no, a bit to the left... a bit more... perfect! Now bring the top down." Laura complied. "Good. Now type 500... good... now press start." Suddenly, papers began shooting out of the machine. Otto and Laura were blinded by the onslaught.

Five minutes later, the wave was over. Otto and Laura both stooped to collect the papers. At the end, all of the papers in Laura's pile were aligned, faced the same way, and looked extremely neat. Otto's pile was a paper free-for-all. Whereas Laura's pile was a neat rectangle, Otto's pile resembled a spiky ellipse that was trying to grow up to be a circle. Half of the papers were folded or creased. Laura sighed. "Oh, Otto." She attacked his pile. Finally, it was declared Fit For Human Use and put on her pile. Otto grabbed the original poll and put it on top. They left.

When they were back in Laura's room and Otto's face had been washed and declared Fit For Human Vision, Otto cleared his throat. "Tomorrow we can talk to the Technical stream and pass out the polls," he said. "We only have to do one more thing tonight."

"Yes?" asked Laura. Otto shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"I'll be the president, and you can be the vice president."

"No," said Laura. "I'll be the president."

"But..."

"But what?"

"But I want to be the president!"

"Let's just flip a coin or something," said Laura. She was already tired and didn't want to get into a full-blown argument with Otto.

"No!" Otto protested.

"Why not?" Laura asked reasonably.

"Because this matters!" said Otto, inflamed. "There is a right choice and a wrong choice. We can't just decide this by flipping a coin!"

"And why, pray tell, are you the right choice?" asked Laura.

"Because... well, Laura, no offense, but... well, I mean... you're great at Technical stream stuff... and I do have experience since I ran my orphanage, and..." Laura managed to calm down enough not to throttle Otto.

"No," she said, her voice calm. "I get it. I belong in the Technical stream with all of the geeks, and you belong in the Alpha stream with all of the future leaders. Don't worry, Otto, I understand." Otto breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, I'm so glad! Thanks so much for understanding! I mean, I really didn't want to fight, and that's great. I'm so glad you didn't take offense or anything." Otto pulled out his Blackbox and quickly typed a letter to Nero. Laura looked over his shoulder.

_ Otto Malpense president, Laura Brand vice-president_.

Otto sent the letter. Laura felt anger bubbling inside of her, trying to rise. She felt like the world's angriest volcano ten seconds before it explodes. And ten seconds later, she exploded. "You idiot, Otto!" she screamed in the loudest voice that Otto had ever heard her use. He could swear that he heard glass shattering in the bathroom. "Of course I took offense! How could I not have taken offense! That was the most offensive thing you've ever said! Ever! What do you mean by saying that I don't belong in the Alpha stream? Are you trying to second-guess Nero or something?" Otto turned paler than he already was, which was quite a feat. Laura continued screaming. As the percentage of Scottish profanities began to increase, Otto decided that it was a great time to leave. Overcome by the sheer volume of Laura's tirade, he ran out the door and dashed through the hallways, getting odd looks from the other occupants of Accommodation Block 7. When he reached the room he shared with Wing, Otto slammed his palm on the door and leaped inside, closing the door quickly behind him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His heart was beating twice as fast as normal. Otto collapsed on the bed. He had never seen Laura explode like that only good thing was that Wing wasn't there to see his ignominious arrival. Otto sighed. It was going to be a long, painful campaign.

**Please review especially with criticism...**


	3. Spies and Ninjas

Wing crept through the hallways of HIVE. Although he didn't actually know which school rule he was breaking, his intuition told him that there had to be one outlawing sneaking around the tactical department shortly before seven. Wing paused and poked his head into the nearest room. Just a bit further... He opened the correct door and crept in, waiting for Shelby in a dark corner.

Shelby's entrance, however, could not have been more obvious. She came in panting and swearing, dragging twenty poster boards behind her. Wing had not known that it was possible for paper and steel to be so loud when they hit each other. Which was every time that Shelby took a step. Wing winced. Shelby stepped into the room and peered around. Wing stepped out of the shadows. Shelby jumped, making all of her poster boards clatter to the floor.

"What was that for?" asked Shelby indignantly. "Why did you have to be a ninja this time?"

"I was not being a ninja," said Wing. "I merely stepped out to greet you."

"And why were you skulking in the corner?" demanded Shelby.

"I wished to avoid an encounter with Colonel Francisco or the security personnel," said Wing.

"And the chances of Colonel Francisco or the guards coming in here are-" Shelby began scornfully.

"-greatly increased since your arrival," said Wing. Shelby pretended to pout.

"But I got us posters," she said. "Did you think that there ever _were_ posters in HIVE? Of course not. But I got us posters, and that's worth something. Even if we get put in detention for the rest of our natural lives."

"Our natural lives may not be very long if they are spent in detention with Colonel Francisco," pointed out Wing. Shelby frowned.

"Nothing has happened yet. He might not be on the warpath." They heard the sound of footsteps. Shelby gulped. "Or, then again, he may. It's a good thing that we're both in advanced Stealth and Evasion." Wing put a hand on his lips and pushed Shelby and half of her posters into a dark corner. He went to his own dark corner and piled his posters in front of him as a shield. They could, if necessary, protect him from Sleeper rays. The footsteps grew louder. The door opened.

"No one here," the guard said into his walkie-talkie. "I'm going to try four-oh- what's that?" One of Shelby's posters had fallen. Wing hoped that she had done a good enough job with the rest of them... "What on earth?" the guard said blithely, surveying Shelby's poster fort. He reached out a hand to move one aside. "Who stores posters-hey! Wait a second!" A dark figure slipped out from behind the posters and sprinted out of the door. "Found someone in four-oh-seven," the guard reported. "Slipped out the door, though." Wing heard another voice.

"All units to block hallway four-oh," it said. Wing hoped that Shelby had escaped. He really did. Having a campaign partner with a criminal record could not be a good thing. Not that Shelby didn't have a criminal record. Still, it would be good if they both managed to stay out of the brig until elections were over. Wing silently collected Shelby's posters from the other side of the room and slipped out of the room, heading in the direction that Shelby had not taken. Via a roundabout route through the grappler cavern, Wing was able to get to accommodation block seven. He let himself into his room to find Shelby already there, perched on top of Otto's bed and looking like the cat that had not only gotten the cream but also become the CEO of a dairy company.

"I've been waiting forever," she sighed.

"No you haven't," said Wing. "You only escaped from the guards ten minutes ago."

"That's forever," Shelby insisted.

"No it isn't," said Wing. "'Forever' cannot be measured in minutes." Shelby rolled her eyes.

"It's called a colloquialism," she said.

"You seem remarkably well informed," said Wing with a straight face.

"You know perfectly well that Otto told me yesterday," Shelby said. Wing did not deign to respond. Shelby finally broke the silence.

"Do you have all of the poster boards?" she asked.

"Yes," said Wing. "Including the ones that you dropped."

"When stealth fails," said Shelby, doing a reasonably good imitation of Ms. Leon, "one must rely on evasion. It's hard to evade while carrying ten poster boards," she added.

"I used stealth alone," said Wing with great dignity.

"Of course you did," said Shelby lightly. "So how did you 'stealth' your way past the guards?"

"I took an alternative route," said Wing. Shelby looked somewhat dubious.

"Fine," she said. "I'll believe you. Until I can worm a confession out of you, that is. Now let's get started on our posters. We can talk about campaign planning while we draw."

"I think that our first priority should be to find a different place to work," said Wing.

"Why?" asked Shelby. "Here, I can use Otto's desk."

"Supposedly," said Wing, "you chose room 409 for seclusion. Otto could be back at any time."

"We'll barricade the door," said Shelby.

"I do not believe that it would be possible to barricade the door itself," said Wing. "Also, there is a regrettable lack of movable furniture in this room. I suggest going to the atrium and-"

"Atrium?" asked Shelby.

"-working there."

"What the heck is an atrium?" Shelby wondered. Wing took the posters and left, sitting down in a suitably deserted part of the common room and spreading the posters out in front of him. "Oh," she said. "You mean the gather-y place."

"I believe that we need writing utensils," said Wing, totally changing the subject.

"I'll just go and get the markers from my room," said Shelby, dashing off. She returned a minute later carrying a pink bag. "I think that half of these are Laura's," she said peering into the bag, "but she won't miss them, I'm sure."

"What did Laura have to say about you carrying off her markers?" asked Wing.

"She wasn't there," said Shelby breezily. "But I'm sure that she'd be just delighted." Wing raised an eyebrow. "Now," she said. "I have this great idea for the posters. OK, so can you draw ninjas?" Wing raised a second eyebrow.

"I am tolerably adept at the drawing of ninjas," he said. "There were some who thought that it would be amusing to teach me the art."

"Good," said Shelby briskly. "So just draw two on each poster, will you? Big ones. With our faces." Wing frowned.

"I am not skilled at the drawing of faces," he said. Shelby grimaced. A flash of inspiration suddenly lit up her face.

"I know!" she said. "Just draw a W on one and an S on the other." Wing obediently selected a black marker from the bag and began to draw. Shelby took another poster and began to write "vote for ninjas Shelby and Wing" on the bottom in block capitals. Finishing, she stepped backwards and surveyed her work, giving herself a mental pat on the back for her neat lettering. Wing looked over at Shelby's work and frowned.

"What does that say?" he asked. Shelby winced. Well, neat by her standards, at least. Shelby's handwriting had always been, as her third grade teacher had put it, a "problem area".

"Vote for ninjas Shelby and Wing," she said. Wing eyed it critically.

"I believe that the legibility would be much improved if the letters were outlined in black," he decided. "May I?" Even though the neon pink letters pretty much stood alone, Shelby had to agree that the black outline, if such a thing was possible, made them pop even a little bit more. She began lettering another one in lime green. Wing went back to his ninjas. When the letters were finished, they were even more illegible than the first poster. Wing finally had to stop drawing ninjas and to spend his time tracing Shelby's letters, something that made Shelby quite indignant. When the twenty posters had all been lettered in neon pink, lime green, a lurid "Is that orange?", cherry red, light teal, royal purple, bright fuchsia, and scorching yellow, Wing resumed his ninja-drawing activities. As soon as he had finished the ninjas, Shelby immediately grabbed the poster and began covering it with little drawings.

"What are those?" Wing asked. Shelby rolled her eyes.

"The insurmountable enemy," she said.

"What species are they?" asked Wing thoughtfully.

"Humans. Duh."

"Duh?" asked Wing. "Am I detecting an Americanism?"

"And if you are?" demanded Shelby.

"I had thought that 'duh' means that something is obvious," said Wing. "I do not understand how the fact that those... things," he gestured distastefully at the images, "are people."

"Wing," said Shelby sadly, "have you or have you not heard of stick figures. Amazing concept, really."

"I do know of the concept," said Wing with great dignity. "However, those... stick figures are grossly anatomically inaccurate."

Shelby tapped her foot impatiently. "Meaning?"

"Their heads are the length of their bodies, which are three times shorter than the machine guns that they appear to be holding," observed Wing.

"Wing." Shelby adopted a tone only used for the very mentally infirm. "Have you ever heard of symbolism?"

"Symbolism."

"Like... like... things that are symbolic. Like, well Laura could probably explain this better than I can, but, well, let me see... So you know the GLOVE symbol?"

"Yes," said Wing.

"The fist smashing the globe is symbolic because the fist represents GLOVE, and the globe represents the world, and so it's supposed to be showing how GLOVE smashes - well, dominates, really - the world. See?" asked Shelby hopefully. "So the symbolism behind huge machine guns is that violence, that's the guns, is more important to them than anything else."

"Why are the heads so large?" asked Wing innocently.

"Because they're... clever," Shelby improvised.

"Violent and clever," mused Wing. "Are you talking about Otto and Laura."

"The opposition in general," said Shelby, inspired, "headed, of course, by O. Malpense and L. Brand. But the point is that the amazing ninjas triumph over everything-"

"-which is why they are about twenty times bigger than the figures," finished Wing proudly.

"Exactly," said Shelby. "Now, we need to decide something. I am going to be running for president; you will be vice-president. Questions? Good. I'm going to email Dr. Nero right now." Shelby emailed Nero and then tried to also email Otto. She failed. Apparently Dr. Nero had only enabled emails to him. It had been worth a try, though. About midway through the fifteenth poster, Otto and Laura came into the room. Shelby cursed softly. But Otto and Laura seemed to be too preoccupied to notice. Laura was carrying a stack of papers.

"I wonder what those papers are," said Wing thoughtfully when they had disappeared. And that was when Shelby had her second brilliant idea of the evening.

"Spies!" she called joyfully. "We need spies." Wing didn't look up from his drawing.

"Why?" he asked. Shelby shrugged.

"No clue. But the Contessa said so."

"She did?" asked Wing. "I didn't know that you paid such careful attention to her." Shelby blushed.

"I did. Once. Last month. But anyway, I heard her say that every villainous enterprise requires spies."

"This is hardly a villainous enterprise," pointed out Wing.

"Wing," said Shelby, "we're at a school for junior supervillains. _Of course this is a villainous enterprise._" Wing didn't respond. "And," Shelby added craftily, "as your president, I order you to do it."

"Where do these spies come from?" asked Wing.

"Our Stealth and Evasion class." Shelby beamed. "Everybody there just loves us."

"Kaela poured a bucket of red paint over my head before our last test," pointed out Wing. "Surely that wasn't a gesture of goodwill."

"It's because she's so infatuated with you, I'm sure," said Shelby, waving the problem aside. "It's a brilliant idea. We can do it tomorrow." Seeing Wing's look, she quickly added, "or I'll do it. You can't stop me. And also, it would add to our image."

"Our image?" asked Wing.

"You know, what people think of us as candidates," said Shelby. "We're running as the ninja candidates, right? So having spies would fit our image perfectly."

"I do not believe that ninjas hired spies," said WIng. "They _were_ spies."

"When they weren't out killing people," said Shelby. There was another long silence.

"So... about image?" Shelby began tentatively.

"Yes," said Wing.

"Well, of course we should act like ninjas, but you already do that, so it shouldn't be a problem. But I had this idea... So you know how we should be, you know, thinking of peoples' ideals and targeting specific audiences and all?" Shelby cursed herself for babbling.

"Yes," said Wing, unable to see where Shelby was going.

"So you know that all of the students in HIVE are teenagers..."

"Yes."

"And in teen years..." Shelby paused. "Many are interested in romance."

"I have noticed a sad tendency in that direction," said Wing gravely. "Do you have any light to shed on it?"

"So do you think that we should... act on it?" asked Shelby quickly.

"Absolutely not," said Wing, shocked. "Ninjas do _not_ have love lives."

"Of course," said Shelby. "I couldn't agree more."

"Good," said Wing. "Now let us finish these posters and hang them." And that was exactly what they did.

**Please review, especially with criticism. (And yes, I have just repeated this author's note three times. You can complain in a review...)**


	4. Glives and Pins

**Sorry that this is such a slow update.**

General Franz Argentblum, Supreme Campaign Commander and Food Getter, was late. Colonel Nigel Darkdoom, Campaign Figurehead and Chief Biologist, felt, once more, that he was getting the short end of the stick. To pass the time, Colonel Darkdoom was composing epithets for himself. The colonel had just become Colonel Nigel Darkdoom the Great, Campaign Figurehead of Awesome Power and Eternal Glory, Chief Biologist of the Most Potent Poisons, Hear His Name And Tremble, He Whose Everlasting Might Eclipses the Rising Sun when General Argentblum burst through the door, having fulfilled his glorious title of Food Getter.

"The snacks have arrived!" declared the victorious general, proudly surveying his conquests.

"Where did you get all that?" asked Nigel weakly. Franz beamed at him.

"The cafeteria was opening for tea," he explained.

"Mm..." said Nigel, deciding not to ask why Franz had decided to bring enough food to feed an impoverished nation for five years. "So am I right in assuming that you will take a snack break now?"

"It is necessary," said Franz seriously, "to be building up my energy for our campaign." Nigel made a sound which could have been a sneeze but wasn't. Franz solemnly picked up a pastry and began to devour it. After five various pastries and danishes had met this grim fate, Franz looked up. Nigel coughed.

"So shall we campaign?" he asked.

"I was thinking that we are being campaigning," said Franz.

"You're having a snack break," said Nigel. "And if you don't stop now, we won't have time before dinner." Franz checked the time on his blackbox and yelped.

"There are only being fifteen minutes until dinner," he announced plaintively. "We must be going to get a good position in the line." Nigel groaned softly but followed Franz to dinner. And thus was the meeting adjourned.

It was shortly after dinner that Nigel utterly lost hope. As Franz began consuming an after-dinner snack, it suddenly became clear to him that if anything was going to happen, he had to take drastic measures to make it happen. At lunch, when Nigel had half-heartedly tried to hold a campaign meeting, Franz had looked up for the two seconds necessary to announce their titles and then wholly engrossed himself in his meal.

As Franz's large hand swung down to bring a chocolate chip macadamia snickerdoodle brownie up to his mouth, Nigel grabbed his tray of food off the table. Franz looked extremely hurt.

"What have you been doing that for?" he complained.

"We," said Nigel in what he hoped was a stern voice, "need to campaign. Tonight. Or else we will lose, and it will all be your fault." He continued for ten minutes in a similar vein. Franz seemed suitably chastened.

"So now," said Nigel, "we will began in the best possible way to make up for wasted time. What can we take advantage of in our campaign?"

"The cafeteria being open at tea," said Franz seriously, "so we can raise our energy levels between lunch and dinner."

"I was actually talking about our abilities," said Nigel, "and traits and so on. For instance, I am good at biotechnology although I don't really see how it could help us. You're good at money redistribution. I'm Diabolus Darkdoom's son. You're... ah... extremely charismatic."

"What is this 'charismatic' meaning?" asked Franz.

"It means that you're a natural leader," said Nigel with a straight face. Franz nodded with approval. "And so," continued Nigel, "you will begin giving me some campaign ideas." Franz began pacing the room.

"Can I be having a snack?" he pleaded. "It will be helping my brain think up devious campaign plans."

"Later," said Nigel, rolling his eyes. "Stop being so greedy." Franz jumped.

"I have it!" he crowed. "Greed is being the source of all evil, ja?"

"I thought it was money," said Nigel. Franz waved a hand dismissively.

"Greed, money. It is being all the same. What we are having to do is to bribe people to be voting for us."

"With what?" asked Nigel.

"I am still having some chocolate," said Franz.

"No," said Nigel. "What if it melts?"

"Oh," said Franz. There was a long silence.

"Let's do this systematically," said Nigel. "What is money made of?"

"Gold," said Franz immediately.

"We have none," said Nigel. "Actually, we don't even have any metal. So coins are out."

"Maybe we are having something that they don't have," Franz suggested. He looked around their shared room hopefully. Nigel grimly held his nose and dived under Franz's bed. Fifteen seconds later, he came up choking and gagging. There was something in his hand. Franz eagerly snatched it. And saw that it was the only essay that Colonel Francisco had ever assigned, "The Benefits of Staying Active". Because of his somewhat unique approach to "staying active", Franz had received a zero before Francisco had even read it. Nigel looked over his shoulder.

"I think we can give up on that idea," he said. "What else is money made of?"

"Linen," said Franz after a long time. "Linen and cotton. But we are not having any of those." Nigel seemed lost in thought.

"I think I can find some linen and cotton for you," he said slowly. Franz patted him on the back.

"I was forgetting that you are being good at biotechnology!" he said happily.

"Ow," said Nigel, rubbing his throbbing back. "Ow, yes. Didn't I -OW!- say so -ow- already?" Franz began doing the most sedentary victory dance ever seen in the history of the world. "But -ow- there's a problem," said Nigel. The victory dance, which was basically a very enthusiastic waving of the fingers, stopped.

"What?" asked Franz. "There is being no problem."

"Yes," said Nigel. "Yes, there is. How are we going to turn cotton into bills?" Franz looked very thoughtful.

"Are seeds coming in bags?" asked Franz.

"Yes..." replied Nigel, feeling as if he was missing something.

"So then we can be putting the cotton in seed bags!" said Franz triumphantly.

"I'm not so sure..." began Nigel.

"Why are you not being sure?" asked Franz.

"Why will people even want bags of cotton?" asked Nigel.

"Because," said Franz, "I will be giving a chocolate bar for every five bags."

"How many chocolate bars do you have?" asked Nigel.

"I am having many," said Franz. "And it is being the best." Nigel had decided long before never to argue with Franz's judgement about which foods where good.

"So..." he asked. "What will we do with these... bags?"

"We will be calling them glives," announced Franz.

"Why?" asked Nigel.

"It is being a combination of GLOVE and HIVE," said Franz. "And we will be giving them to those who promise to vote for us. Two per vote."

"And how do we know that they won't just take the... glives... and not vote for us?"

"Because," said Franz, "we will be making them sign." At that point, Nigel realized that any further resistance was futile. Even though Franz's plan made absolutely no sense to him, it wasn't going to change.

"Fine," he said. "So... what else?"

"Well," said Franz, "you will be wearing this." He procured a large black pin with Darkdoom Jr. written on it in red. Subtracting from the effect, however, was a small green monster with its mouth hanging open.

"Thanks?" stammered Nigel. "I don't think I'll ask where you got this." General Argentblum proudly pinned the pin on his colonel.

"It is being perfect," he said. "And now, you are being the president."

"President?" asked Nigel. He had always envisioned himself as running for vice-president. "But, with your charisma, wouldn't you be better?"

"What is charis- ah, yes, I am remembering. No. You are being president. I am using my leadership skills to make you president, ja?"

"I really don't think..."

"You are being president," said Franz severely. "Or else..." He brandished a fork threateningly.

"Ah... yes! I will." Nigel opened his blackbox and typed a quick email to Nero as per instructions. Darkdoom president, Argentblum vice-president.

"Very good," said Franz. "And now, I will be finishing my snack."

Colonel Nigel Darkdoom the Great, Campaign Figurehead of Awesome Power and Eternal Glory, Chief Biologist of the Most Potent Poisons, Hear His Name And Tremble, He Whose Everlasting Might Eclipses the Rising Sun, and newly appointed Cotton Fabricator of Ultimate Supremacy left for his little lab to begin trying to figure out the mass production of cotton in under a week. General Franz Argentblum, Supreme Campaign Commander, and Food Getter settled down for his postprandial collation.

**Please review (especially with criticism).**


	5. Verbifying and Abject Failure

"Honestly," Otto said, "I think that the girls have been kidnapped."

"I believe that this is an unlikely possibility," said Wing calmly. "Shelby was present last night."

"I bet they got kidnapped in the night," mused Otto. "Probably-" But Wing never got to hear about the girls' fate because at that moment, an extremely disgruntled redhead sat down next to them. "Where were you?" Otto asked impatiently. "Where's Shelby?"

"I was waiting to use the bathroom," said Laura. "And to throttle Shelby. If she goes on this way, I'll have to strangle her before the elections are over. Sorry Wing."

"I believe that it would be best if you did not murder my election partner," said Wing, frowning. "You may use the bathroom in Otto's and my room."

"Thank you." Laura looked relieved. She dashed off to their room. Two minutes later, Shelby sauntered down to the couch that Otto and Wing were sitting on.

"Nothing like a bathroom to cure a bad case of the zombies," she said. "Have you seen Laura?"

"Yes," said Otto. "She promised to strangle you." Shelby rolled her eyes.

"I'd like to see her try."

"Is that a challenge?" asked Otto. Shelby considered.

"Yes," she said. Nigel came into the room.

"Hi," he said wearily.

"What's that?" asked Shelby. She was pointing to a splotch of color. It was almost hidden by the folds of Nigel's jumpsuit, but from her angle, Shelby could see some green. Nigel winced.

"I tried to cover it up with the folds, but it didn't really work. Franz's idea. If one of you could burn it, that would be great." Shelby grabbed the green, almost knocking Nigel off his feet. Otto tried but failed to look over her shoulder as she examined it. The green turned out to be a dinosaur on a black pin. On top was written "Darkdoom Jr." Shelby grinned wickedly.

"I had no idea that your dad was a dino - what did you do that for, Otto?" Otto was dragged Shelby over to the waterfall.

"What are they doing?" asked Laura, who had just appeared and looked much happier.

"I believe that they are holding a whispered argument," stated Wing. Shelby marched over and jerked her thumb towards Otto, who was in the waterfall.

"Your partner seems to be taking an unscheduled swim," she said.

"You pushed him in?" Laura looked horrified.

"Maybe, maybe not," said Shelby.

"Why?" asked Nigel, utterly confused.

"Because he was acting as your grief councilor," explained Shelby.

"My grief councilor? But I don't have a grief-"

"Will you be voting for Argentblum and Darkdoom?" came a voice from behind them. Nigel rolled his eyes.

"Franz," he said, "this is getting ridiculous. I will vote for us, and they will vote for themselves. There is absolutely no way to change any of that." Franz looked crestfallen.

"Are you being sure that Laura will not be voting for us?" he asked.

"Very," said Laura. Franz wandered away.

"I think that, for the first time in history, Franz might be skipping breakfast," said Shelby in a loud stage whisper. Franz came hurrying back.

"No, no," he said. "I have not been missing breakfast. I am having a first breakfast before you are waking up, and I will be joining you for a second breakfast, ja?" He wandered away again.

Franz approached the students stealthily. He had been tracking the group of gray uniforms for a while and was glad to have finally found their owners. "Who are you voting for in the elections?" he asked. They looked up in surprise.

"Which elections?" one asked.

"You are knowing," said Franz impressively. "The Alpha elections."

"Oh," said a second one, "the ones that the Contessa mentioned yesterday, Jo."

"Who are you voting for?" asked Franz. They shrugged. Franz winked. "Personally," he said, "I am voting for the son of Diabolus Darkdoom. I am thinking that it is being safest that way."

"That kid who destroyed the school with his plant?" asked the one called Jo.

"The son of _Diabolus Darkdoom_," said Franz grandly.

"What does it matter to you?" asked a third one.

"I am being the Darkdoom campaign manager," explained Franz. "In exchange for your support, I am giving you two glives." He indicated the canvas sacks in his hands. In the end, Franz had decided that picking the cotton to fill the sacks seemed suspiciously like that dreaded creature and terrifying beast, that spawn of Colonel Francisco, the feared fiend whose name, spoken with hushed voices around dying campfires, was Exercise. So he had decided to give people the canvas bags alone.

"What are those?" asked the second one.

"Currency," explained Franz. "Currency that I am introducing to HIVE. If you are getting five glives, I am giving you a bar of the finest Argentblum chocolate. That is truly being a gift worth having, ja?"

"And when do these exchanges happen?" asked Jo.

"After the election," explained Franz. "If we are winning."

"So basically, we hope to get chocolate after the elections if we pledge our support to you?" asked a fourth one incredulously. "So how do we know that you'll keep our promise, and how do you know that we'll keep our promise."

"There are being ways," said Franz mysteriously. "Are you being supporters?"

"I guess," said the second one.

"That is being fortunate for you," said Franz. "Now, if you will be signing here..." He produced four identical sheets and handed one to each girl. Each of them returned them to him with a signature. Jo Anderson, Linda Rivet, Erma Babbitt, and Beth Paterson had just become the first Darkdoom-Argentblum supporters of the campaign. As Franz watched them go, he jotted a name into a notebook. Things were going to change...

"Is Franz trying to set up a mobile bakery?" asked Shelby.

"I'd think of it more as 'breakfast on the go'," said Otto, smirking. "I don't think that his canvassing is going very well, somehow." Nigel came up to them in line.

"Do you mind if I go in front of you?" he asked. "I just don't want Franz to see me."

"Of course," said Otto magnanimously. Nigel gratefully slid in front of him, which was quite easy. Everyone was giving Otto a wide berth since he was still dripping from his time in the waterfall. All was well until Nigel got to the front of the line. Suddenly, Franz's voice was booming in Nigel's ear.

"And here is being my partner in crime!" Franz winked very obviously. "Now you can be going with me," he said.

"But..." said Nigel weakly. "Breakfast..."

"I am having enough to sustain your energy levels," said Franz solemnly. "Now let us be campaigning." A protesting Nigel was dragged away. Otto, Wing, Shelby, and Laura looked at each other.

"Two down, four to go," said Shelby ominously. "What are you holding, Otto?"

"Polls," said Otto. "I'm afraid I'll be following Franz's example."

"Three down, three to go," said Laura. "Half of our companions have been have been sucked into the bottomless abyss of mobile breakfasting."

"Well, at least there'll be room at our table," said Shelby.

"Even more than you expect," said Laura. "I'm having breakfast with some friends in the technical stream." She took her filled plate to a nearby table.

"Our friends seem to have all decided to campaign during meals," said Wing.

"Well, at least we'll get the table to ourselves," pointed out Shelby. "All the better to ninja."

"Has 'ninja' become a verb?" asked Wing. "I had thought that it was a noun." Shelby rolled her eyes.

"It's called verbifying," she said.

"Verbifying?" asked Wing.

"You know, making a noun into a verb to describe what that noun does. Everyone does it."

"I was not aware," said Wing. Suddenly, Shelby turned around and made a noise resembling a yelp.

"Everyone's watching us," she hissed. "Quick! Do something ninjalike!" Wing continued sedately spooning cereal into his bowl. Shelby, meanwhile, attempted a complicated spatula-pancake-plate flip. Unfortunately, the pancake went flying two feet to the left and was deftly caught by Wing, who looked very unsure of what to do. Holding Shelby's maple syrup-covered pancake in his bare hands did not suggest an action to Wing, and he stood motionless. Shelby impatiently shoved her plate under the pancake. Wing dropped the pancake onto the plate and stood examining his syrupy hand. Shelby shoved him in the back with her plate. "Move." Wing obediently went to their table, pausing on the way to snatch a handful of napkins. When Shelby arrived at the table, Wing was gingerly prodding his hand with a wad of napkins.

"Is 'ninjalike' a word?" he asked as if nothing had happened.

"It's called adjectifying," said Shelby with a straight face. "Making a noun into an adjective that describes a noun." They ate in silence.

"Nice job catching the pancake," said Shelby finally. "It was done very ninjaly."

"Adverbifying?" Wing frowned.

"Wing," said Shelby, "your English is apparently not very good. Of course you can make words into different parts of speech."

"Hmm..." said Wing dubiously.

"Otto," Wing said on their way to Tactical Education, "someone has informed me that one can 'verbify' in English and change nouns into verbs describing what the nouns would do. Is this true?" Otto frowned.

"No," he said. "Who told you?"

"Shelby," said Wing. Otto nodded knowingly.

"I see. Were you campaigning at breakfast?"

"No," said Wing. "Shelby tried, but we reached the conclusion that mealtime campaigning has been an abject failure. How did you get that bruise?" Otto looked sheepish.

"Abject failure," he said.

**Please review. Criticism is much appreciated.**


	6. Detentions and Autographs

There was a resounding crash. Without even looking, Laura knew that Franz had failed them. Again. She looked up. Franz was standing complacently in the red rectangle and shrugging. Their team had unanimously decided that Franz was the most useless player and sent him to the goal. A mistake, as it turned out. Colonel Francisco blew his whistle loudly. "Time!" he called. "And tomorrow I expect a much more interesting game from you maggots!" There was a dispirited chorus of "Sir yes sir" as the teams began dispersing. Shelby and Otto came over to her.

"Good game," the blonde said heartily.

"For your side," muttered the albino. Shelby raised an eyebrow.

"What ever happened to good sportsmanship?" she inquired.

"It's not about sportsmanship," Otto said. "It's about the fact that you had Nigel, who apparently used to be a professional soccer player before coming to HIVE. There was no skill involved. It was all about luck!"

"Sour grapes," sniffed Shelby.

"Otto does have a point," said Laura. "Nigel did pretty much score all of your goals."

"Did you see my assist?" asked Shelby.

"I believe it was an assist to an assist," said Wing mater-of-factly from behind them.

"Well, I got the ball more times than you did!" Shelby said indignantly.

"No," said Wing. "I got it seven times, and you only got it six times."

"Your seventh time only lasted a second before Nigel stole it," said Shelby.

"Three seconds," said Wing.

"You're missing the point," sighed Shelby. "I'm just better than you." Wing frowned.

"In some things, you may be better than me. However, I firmly maintain that I am a better soccer player than you."

"That's right," chimed in Otto.

"Is everyone going to turn against me?" asked Shelby fiercely. "Are you, Laura?"

"Wing is..." began Laura feebly.

"How would you know?" asked Shelby. "You didn't even get the ball once!" Laura looked hurt.

"Without Nigel, she would've," said Otto.

"Without Nigel, you would not have been winning!" A grumpy Franz Argentblum came up behind them with Nigel in tow. Shelby gave Nigel a high-five. Or at least, she intended to give him a high-five. "That was being my arm," complained Franz.

"How's the campaign going?" asked Otto wickedly.

"It is being good," said Franz earnestly. "And this is reminding me that we are having to ask Colonel Francisco for a signature."

"Wait... what?" Nigel spluttered. "No we're not! I certainly am not..." Franz hauled the protesting Nigel away.

"Good luck," Otto called after them.

"You know," said Shelby wickedly, "I think it would be really terrible to, you know, sneak a bit closer just to hear, if you catch my drift..." Laura looked scandalized.

"It's not sport! I really have no idea why Franz is being so..."

"Stupid?" Shelby offered.

"I'm sure he has his reasons," said Laura. Otto snorted.

"Maybe he wanted another detention with the Colonel?"

"We can find out," Shelby said. "Coming?" She began edging her way closer to where Nigel and Franz stood. They were both eying Colonel Francisco apprehensively.

"Sir... Mister... Your Highness... Colonel... General... Emperor..." Franz was stuttering. The Colonel raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Mr. Argentblum?" Nigel stood nearby, paralyzed with fear. Franz held out paper and a pen with trembling hands.

"I was wondering if you could be signing this paper..." The Colonel looked down at the paper.

"Saying that I support you and Darkdoom? Like hell I do! Why would I ever sign that?" Franz took a deep breath.

"Nigel and I would be doing a detention for you." There were gasps of astonishment from Shelby and Otto. Even Francisco looked mildly surprised.

"No!" squeaked Nigel. "No! No! Don't bother! Never mind!" The Colonel ignored him.

"A detention, Argentblum?"

"Yes," said Franz bravely. "A detention."

"Fine," said Colonel Francisco. "You have a detention tonight." He took the pen and briskly signed the paper. Then he looked over to where Otto and Shelby stood snickering. "What's so amusing?" he growled. "Trinity, Malpense, detention." Otto looked devastated.

"But..."

"Serves you right for laughing at me," Colonel Francisco barked. "I will see the four of you at Firing Range B tonight at 8."

"What I don't understand," said Laura to Wing, "is why we're helping them even though _they_ got the detentions. I mean, it's not like _we_ were stupid enough to laugh at Colonel Francisco."

"It is, of course," said Wing neutrally, "because of our angelic tempers." Otto, who was close enough to hear, snorted.

"Villains don't have angelic tempers, Wing," he called. "Haven't you listened to Dr. Nero?"

"It's also to keep you guys from killing Franz!" Laura yelled back. Otto turned away and began industriously picking up bullets. The whole room was strewn with various ranged weapons. Their assignment, as Colonel Francisco had gleefully told them, was to "clean the floor, and do a good job too because if there's a single thing left on the floor, I'm shooting it at you". They had been working for half an hour, and Franz had yet to actually pick anything up. Given that he was basically the cause of the detentions, certain other members of the detained group were, to put it tastefully, annoyed at his lack of progress.

"Of course," said Otto, "Colonel Francisco wouldn't actually, you know, make good on his threat."

"Oh, really?" asked Shelby darkly. "If you're so sure..." Otto blanched.

"It was a question," he said quickly. "An academic proposition. Of course I'll help you."

"Thank you very much," said Shelby sarcastically. "Thank you for, out of the magnanimous goodness of your heart, helping me in this detention you got me into."

"I did not get you into this detention!" Otto said, bristling. "You were the one who wanted to listen to the conversation in the first place!"

"And you followed me," said Shelby. " 'The follower is as bad as the leader.' " she recited primly.

"Who said that?" challenged Otto. "The care bears?"

"My third grade teacher, if you want to know," shot back Shelby.

"I didn't even have a third grade teacher," said Otto smugly.

"Yes you did!" said Shelby. "You told us that you only began teaching yourself when you were ten. Third graders aren't ten; they're eight or nine! Get your facts straight, fuzzball head." Otto looked genuinely insulted.

"Fuzzball head? I'm not a fuzzball head!"

"But getting back to the point," said Shelby loudly, "I was _not_ the one snickering so loudly that Colonel Francisco could hear me from ten feet away." There was a stony silence. Shelby got up, brought the bullets to the storage bin, and came back to a spot 50 feet from where she had been.

"Could we review our brilliant strategy, please?" asked Nigel, who was red-faced and panting.

"You can not be thinking of reviewing our brilliant strategy here," said Franz, who was equally red-faced and panting despite not having done any work. He was lying on a patch of ground that Nigel had cleared and acting like a beached whale. ("I am needing some hydration, ja?") "There are being too many ears around."

"Franz," said Nigel, "you have just landed me in this detention without giving any reason whatsoever for why you wanted Colonel Francisco's signature. Please?" Franz just shook his head.

"It is being too risky," he said. "Also, I am thinking that Dr. Nero has been telling us that secrecy is being the key, ja? Maybe I should not be telling you..."

"Otto and Shelby already want to kill you," Nigel said.

"To be killing me?" Franz suddenly looked alarmed.

"And frankly," continued Nigel, "it wouldn't be too hard, given where we are. Don't add me to the list. Please."

"Later?" Franz pleading.

"Now," said an unrelenting Nigel Darkdoom.

"Later?"

"Now."

"I will be telling you before we are asking Raven," Franz promised.

"_What?!_"

"Ow!" screamed Laura. Wing attempted to rush over to her but tripped over a dagger and nearly came crashing down on top of her.

"What happened?" he asked. Laura held out something that Wing couldn't exactly see. He picked it up and then dropped it as his fingertips began bleeding. A ghost of a smile appeared on Laura's face. Wing bent down and began studiously observing the object. "It appears to be a miniature shuriken," he said.

"How do you throw one of those?" asked Laura. Wing frowned at it.

"I am not sure as to how one would achieve the correct velocity."

"I bet that Colonel Francisco just put it there to spear one of us."

"It is an unusual weapon," Wing agreed, "and I do not believe that Colonel Francisco would be above playing such a trick."

"Do you think he could shoot it at us? I mean, it's kind of small. I don't see how you could hold one of these without getting cut..."

"I believe that one would need finger protection," Wing mused.

"Finger protection?" asked Laura.

"Gloves," clarified Wing.

"That would cut through gloves." Wing poked it tentatively.

"You are probably right," he agreed. Laura suddenly giggled. "What?" he asked.

"From where did you get such a red glove?" she asked.

"Glove?" asked Wing. He nudged the shuriken with his foot.

"From where did you get such a red shoe?" she asked.

"Wow!" said Otto. "I didn't realize how talented Block and Tackle are."

"What?" asked Shelby.

"Look!" Shelby came rushing over.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Otto looked at her blankly.

"The sword," he said. "I guess they were using it."

"The sword?"

"Well," explained Otto, "most people don't use swords as long-distance weapons."

"I can," said Shelby.

"No you can't," retorted Otto.

"Oh, really?" asked Shelby. "Well, then, if you would just stand there and hold still..."

"No," said Otto.

"No? So then you _do_ believe that I could throw a sword that far?"

"No," said Otto.

"So then why don't you..."

"I'm afraid that you'll sprain your wrist."

"That's ridiculous!" growled Shelby. "How on earth could I sprain my wrist throwing a sword?"

"Easily," replied Otto. "You could certainly tear a ligament if you threw it incorrectly..."

"And why would I throw it incorrectly?"

"Possibly you don't have much training in the area of..."

"Of course I can!" exploded Shelby. "I thank you for your concern, but..." Otto backed away with his hands raised.

"I demand a trail run," he said. "Throw it into the 'miscellaneous' box."

"Everyone get out of the way!" yelled Shelby. Wing jumped. Laura spun. Franz pulled Nigel in front of him. Nigel squirmed. Otto dived into the ground. The sword flew through the air. It flew past the box. It even flew through the newly opened door towards Raven, who dodged it. There was a sticky silence.

"Will you be giving me an autograph?" asked Franz.

"You said that you would tell me what you're playing at before you asked Raven!" yelled Nigel. Franz looked scandalized.

"I was going to, ja?" said Franz. "And then there is being a... a... silver possibility."

"Golden opportunity," sighed Nigel.

"It was working," said Franz defensively.

"Yes," said Nigel. "Except for the fact that the pen went up my nose. Other than that, it was great." Franz was pacing the floor of their room.

"Now listen," said Franz eagerly. "I am having a brilliant idea, ja? So I am getting many signatures. Most?" He gestured self-importantly towards the trash can. "Most, I am killing. But some," he said, "I am keeping for hanging on the walls."

"You hang Colonel Francisco's signature on the wall?" asked Nigel incredulously.

"It is being... being... celebration? No, that is not being it. It is being..."

"Celebrity endorsement?" Franz beamed. "Who are you using?" asked Nigel.

"Colonel Francisco, Raven, Otto..."

"What?" Franz nodded.

"I am giving Otto some information about food, and he is signing this," Franz explained.

"Who else?" asked Nigel.

"I am looking for the Contessa..." explained Franz.

"Oh no!"

**Criticism would be greatly appreciated...**


	7. Wires and Parties

"What are your political views?" asked Nero pensively as he saw his door open and a shadowy figure creep in.

"My political views?" asked Raven.

"Your thoughts on the upcoming election," clarified Nero.

"And yours?" Raven replied. Nero steepled his fingers.

"It has to be Malpense, Trinity, or Darkdoom," he replied. "None of the others stand a chance. Between the three? I really can't say. Trinity had been doing the best, maybe. Darkdoom had been doing the worst."

"Why did you ask me, then?" Raven asked, always eager to get to the point.

"I asked," said Nero, "because you have dramatically changed the whole situation. Trinity _had_ been doing the best. Darkdoom _had_ been doing the worst." Nero gaze suddenly intensified.

"And now?" asked Raven.

"Now that you have suddenly shown your support for Darkdoom," Nero said, "it is impossible to tell. Unless Mr. Malpense finds a way to negate your signature..." He let the thought trail off and continued to watch Raven expectantly.

"I could destroy it," Raven promised. "Tonight, even."

"No," said Nero. "I'm afraid that you couldn't. Malpense, Trinity, Brand, and Fanchu saw you. If it was just Darkdoom and Argentblum, I would let you. Darkdoom would not complain, and Argentblum has always been apt to exaggerate. However, word would spread, and we always like to convey the impression that we never search students' rooms."

"You had me steal their device when they tried to escape!" Raven pointed out. Nero nodded thoughtfully.

"Very well. You may go." A careful observer might have, at that point, seen a dark shape leave the room.

Nero couldn't understand why he was suddenly so furious. It was only a signature. Of course the staff was going to pick sides! Pike had already given Malpense his photocopier. Colonel Francisco was almost certainly supporting Trinity and Fanchu. The Alpha stream was dividing. This irritated Nero immensely. As he kept track of potential students for years before their induction, he had a clear sense of their potential. Every Alpha student had the potential to lead, but not all of them recognized this talent. Some of them had instead chosen to favor skills that they already had before their arrival at HIVE. In fact, of the six students who were in a position to win the election, Argentblum was the only one who had become more of a leader, and that was only because all of his previous skills only dealt with the eating of chocolate.

Nero had to remind himself to be more cautious. Despite Raven's past loyalty, Nero had a feeling that it wouldn't pay to be too rude to his assassin. Of course, no respectable villain would ever, ever apologize to his staff. Nero decided that the suitable thing to do would be to offer Raven a pay raise in the extremely near future.

THIS IS A LINE BREAK!

"I am thinking that we will not be needing to ask the Contessa," Franz announced early the next morning.

"Really?" asked Nigel, yawning hugely. "After playing the hazmat janitors-am I using that correctly?-and almost getting murdered by the best-or would that be worst?-assassin ever, we're not soliciting an insane Italian who can make anyone do anything with her voice for a signature?" Franz looked startled.

"Someone is falling on the wrong side of the carpet, no?"

"Getting up on the wrong side of the bed," Nigel corrected. "Although I imagine that falling on a carpet _would_ be unpleasant, regardless of whether the side one has fallen on is the right side or the wrong side."

"That is precisely what I have been thinking," announced Franz.

"Good," said Nigel.

"I will be finding some colored paper now," said Franz.

"Good," said Nigel. Franz hurried off. Nigel wasn't even going to ask what the paper was for. He had a feeling he didn't want to know.

THIS IS A LINE BREAK!

"Laura," said Shelby.

"Yes?" A slightly muted voice came from the bathroom.

"What are these boxes?" Shelby asked.

"What are which boxes?" Laura replied indignantly. "Don't be ridiculous; there are no new boxes here. The only boxes that we have are filled with your half-finished homework." An irate Laura came out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in her hand. "Which boxes?" she demanded.

"Those boxes," Shelby said, pointing. Laura gulped.

"None of your business," she said. Shelby, of course, bounded across the room and peered inside the boxes.

"Wires?" she asked. "Again? What could you possibly do with so many wires?"

"Wires?" asked Laura. As far as she knew, those boxes were filled with cameras that she had picked up from SciTech friends. She walked over to the box and peered in. The box did appear to contain a knotted mess of wires. Laura tugged on one. A mass of wires slowly came up from the boxes. To Laura's eyes, a hand was rising out of the sea to give her a sword (and hopefully some cameras). Shelby saw a quivering mess of spaghetti. Fortunately or unfortunately, there were no cameras or spaghetti to be found in the box.

THIS IS A LINE BREAK!

"I have," said Shelby, "a brilliant idea."

"Brilliant?" Wing frowned. They were both sitting near the waterfall in the atrium. "As I recall, your last plan had little success." Shelby scowled.

"OK, I wasn't exactly right," she muttered. "But it was really more Ms. Leon's fault. I mean, once she said _that_, it was kind of hopeless." There was a moment of silence as they both reflected on Ms. Leon's unfortunate reaction to their idea of recruiting their classmates as spies. Wing broke the silence.

"I do not believe that we need spies," said Wing. "I believe that we have a good idea of what our adversaries are up to."

"I don't know." Shelby looked thoughtful. "You know, this morning, Laura had several boxes of cameras in her room." Wing looked perturbed.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Shelby rolled her eyes.

"Of course I'm sure. I destroyed every single one of them before Laura woke up."

"That was not a very noble thing to do," Wing pointed out. Shelby snorted.

"Noble?" she asked. "Since when has anyone ever cared about 'noble' in an election?"

"'Better not to be at all than not to be noble,'" quoted Wing. Shelby wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Alfred Lord Tennyson," replied Wing with great dignity.

"Alfred Lord-what?" asked Shelby.

"Alfred Lord _Tennyson_."

"Who on earth was Alfred Lord Tennyson?"

"Alfred Lord Tennyson was a British poet," said Wing. "It may interest you to know that he is the ninth most frequently quoted author in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations."

"Fascinating," said Shelby, yawning. "Now, do you want to hear my great idea or not?"

"What is your idea?" asked Wing cautiously.

"Is this a safe enough place to tell you?" Shelby asked, looking around. Wing sighed.

"Knowing you, the whole school will be informed of this within two hours," he said. "Also, the noise of the waterfall and the caterwauling of the swimmers should insure that our conversation remains private. However, I shall test my hypothesis." Wing stood up and called out to the nearest person to them, a third-year PolFi student. The boy did not even look in their direction. "I believe that we are safe," Wing said.

"Fine," said Shelby. Her eyes lit up. "We should have a party." Wing looked shocked.

"A _party_?" he asked dubiously, pronouncing the word as if the mere uttering of its syllables burned his lips.

"Yes," said Shelby. "We'll have a party! A 'Vote for Wing and Shelby' party!"

"Where?" asked Wing.

"Here," replied Shelby.

"What about the other candidates?" asked Wing suspiciously.

"That," said Shelby dramatically, "is where _you_ come in. I've checked, and the only other ones in our block are Otto and Laura and Franz and Nigel. It's easy; all you have to do is distract them for, oh, say, five hours."

"Five hours?"

"If you feel really confident, we could always make it six," Shelby suggested.

"You believe that I am capable of distracting Otto, Laura, Franz, and Nigel for five hours? This seems to me like a Herculean task," said Wing.

"Of course you can," said Shelby. "All you need is some confidence. Hopefully, you'll be able to sneak away at some point and come to the party. Maybe you could smash one of Laura and Otto's projects or something. Murder one of Nigel's plants." Wing looked shocked.

"I will not sabotage my friends to win a class election."

"Destroying one of Nigel's plants would be good," said Shelby. "Do you want all of HIVE to be eaten by another Violet. Look, you can think of something." Wing realized that he was not going to be able to talk Shelby out of her idea.

"How will we get all of the necessary supplies?" he asked.

"What necessary supplies?" asked Shelby.

"I would assume," said Wing, "that a party would need invitations, food, organized activities, musicians..."

"Easy," said Shelby. "We can take some snack food from the cafeteria, and Big Blue can play the music."

"What about organized activities?" asked Wing.

"Why do we need organized activities?" asked Shelby.

"I've never been to a party without organized activities," said Wing. "Some of them were quite nice. In one of them, we-"

"How many parties have you been to?" demanded Shelby.

"Three," said Wing.

"That's impressive," said Shelby. "When?"

"When my mother was alive," said Wing, "she took me along to her parties when Lao was with his family."

"I'm sorry," mumbled Shelby. "But," she continued in her normal voice, "you have absolutely no experience. All we need is food. And, under normal circumstances, I would include dancing, but I don't want people to forget that the party is about us being elected. Listen, I'm an expert party planner. All you have to do is leave that to me and just distract the others for a few hours. OK. Great. Bye." Shelby strode away, leaving Wing wondering how on earth he could keep his friends away from their block for five hours. Also, he had just realized that Shelby had not answered his question about the extremely important matter of invitations.

THIS IS A LINE BREAK!

"I have something I've been meaning to tell you," said Laura uncomfortably.

"Yes?" asked Otto, fiddling with the gadget he had in front of him.

"The cameras are gone."

"How?" asked Otto.

"I think that Shelby may have wrecked them," said Laura. "When I woke up this morning, they were destroyed."

"I know," said Otto.

"How?"

"Wing apologized to me."

"Wing is never going to be a politician, then," said Laura.

"The poll thing didn't work either," said Otto.

"I know."

"We need another plan."

"We need a miracle," said Laura. "Who's going to vote for us anyway?"

"The whole SciTech stream?" suggested Otto.

"Not when we don't return the cameras."

"Ah," said Otto. "I guess we'll focus on that, then."

"We need about 200 cameras," Laura said. "Actually, I think it's 197."

"Please tell me that they're all the same," said Otto.

"Actually, yes," said Laura. "It was a time thing. All of them were pretty much the same." Otto looked even paler than usual.

"I don't see any way around it," he said. "I think we'll just have to make them ourselves. It can be a two-person assembly line." He stopped toying with the machine in his hands.

"What's that?" Laura asked.

"Something for the Maze," he replied. "It's supposed to simulate the flight of a housefly. It doesn't really work yet, though..." Laura looked at it critically.

"Where are the wings?" she asked.

"I was lying," replied Otto with a wink. "You'll find out later."

"Why not now?" asked Laura.

"Two can share a secret if one is dead, senile, unable to communicate, or comatose," said Otto. "Look, it's really a last resort. I don't want both of us to end up in the brig."

"The brig?" asked Laura. "Otto, what exactly are you doing?" Otto shook his head.

"Let's get the boxes now," he said.

Anyone who happened to have wandered into room ST350 that night would have seen two figures toiling over a box of wires and heard the complaints of the smaller of the two.

"I seriously need to ride a reindeer right now," said the aforementioned smaller one. "Being an elf has absolutely no job benefits except for being next to a herd of reindeer all the time. And we don't even have that!"

"The North Pole would be too cold for you," pointed out the other. "You even hate ice cream for being frozen."

"Not my fault," grumbled the first. "I don't see what's wrong with just cream. Adding the ice seems unnecessary to me."

**Criticism and reviews are always greatly appreciated. I apologize for the line breaks; this is the best I can do. If anyone has any advice...**


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